Huaisha City People’s Hospital, intensive care ward.

Sunlight streamed in through the glass windows, soft and warm, illuminating everything with a gentle brightness.

Zhou Jin wanted to open her heavy eyelids. Brilliant light rushed toward her, and it took quite a while before she could barely make out the ceiling.

She caught the faint scent of disinfectant, mingled with the smell of sunlight on the blankets.

For a brief moment, Zhou Jin’s memory was blank — she had even forgotten why she was lying in a hospital.

She turned her head to the side and saw Jiang Hansheng slumped over the edge of the hospital bed. She could see his slightly disheveled hair, his broad shoulders and back. Even in sleep he looked composed, and he didn’t seem to be having nightmares anymore — his breathing was steady and quiet.

Zhou Jin’s entire body felt as though it had fallen apart. Her right hand was held in Jiang Hansheng’s grip, yet she couldn’t feel it at all.

Summoning her will, she moved her fingers. The tingling sensation of returning circulation gradually brought feeling back.

The moment Zhou Jin stirred, Jiang Hansheng woke.

He lifted his head and looked at her — and walked straight into her gaze, completely unprepared. He was momentarily stunned, then quickly rose and reached out to touch her forehead. “You’re awake? I’ll go get the doctor.”

Zhou Jin gathered her strength and closed her hand around his. Jiang Hansheng was stopped in his tracks and leaned back down toward her. “What is it?”

Zhou Jin’s voice was hoarse. “You fool — from that height, how could you just jump like that…”

A faint smile rose at the corners of Jiang Hansheng’s lips as he gently stroked the soft hair at her temple.

Because Zhou Jin was looking at him that way again.

Even while Zhou Jin had been trading harsh words with Qi Yan, her eyes had remained fixed on Jiang Hansheng in the distance — just as they had been that time she pulled him home with her. Her gaze was tender and unwavering.

How could he not follow her?

But Jiang Hansheng offered no further explanation. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned the question back on her: “That’s what I should be asking you.”

Zhou Jin blinked and said, “I’m invincible. You’re a different story.”

She immediately thought of the Jiang Hansheng in those video recordings — thought of all the suffering he had endured — and then looked at him now, healthy and clean, keeping watch at her bedside. Zhou Jin felt the urge to cry.

As if making a solemn promise, she said, “Professor Jiang, I will protect you well. From now on — I’ll be right by your side.”

She spoke with sincerity and gravity. No matter how carefully Jiang Hansheng observed her, he could find not the slightest trace of insincerity.

Jiang Hansheng’s breath faltered. After a long moment, he said, “Alright.”

All those words had cost Zhou Jin considerable effort. She paused to rest, then said wearily, “I really want to kiss you right now — though that seems a bit difficult at the moment.”

Jiang Hansheng’s smile deepened. He bent down and gently pressed his lips to hers.

Zhou Jin was very pleased with his initiative.

She tilted her eyes toward the clear window and the light outside — like scattered flecks of gold — and let out a soft sigh. “The sunlight is so beautiful today.”

“Mm.”

Zhou Jin added, “We’re even wearing matching outfits.”

There was a playful lilt at the end of her words.

Jiang Hansheng was momentarily puzzled. He looked down at his own hospital gown, then at hers, and after a beat let out a helpless laugh.

“Let’s try not to wear these again,” he said.

Zhou Jin couldn’t hold back her laughter, and a breath caught wrong in her throat — she erupted into a fit of coughing.

Still pressing a hand to her chest, she managed to say, “I can’t — cough, cough — I can’t, laughing is making my heart hurt.”

Jiang Hansheng quickly steadied her. “Stop laughing. I’m going to get the doctor.”

The doctor came and conducted a preliminary examination. He confirmed that her condition had stabilized — the main concern was internal organ damage from the fall into the water, which would require another period of rest in the hospital.

It was only from the doctor that Zhou Jin learned she had been unconscious for three days. She immediately asked Jiang Hansheng about the progress of the case.

Upon learning that Qi Yan had been shot and killed on the spot by police, Zhou Jin was momentarily stunned.

For five years, she had never stopped investigating the “8·17” gun heist — it had long since become a habit, a part of her life. Now, learning that the mastermind Qi Yan had been killed and the case was about to be closed, she felt, strangely, a sense of unfamiliarity.

After a while, she murmured, “He got off far too easy.”

“He did,” said Jiang Hansheng.

His voice was slightly heavy as he said it.

During the rescue operation at the Nanshan villa, apart from four members of the special police unit who had been injured in the explosion, there were no other casualties. Those four officers had since all been taken off the critical list one by one.

The serious crimes unit and Huaisha’s local police were buried deep in the follow-up investigation. On account of Qi Zhen’s testimony, the Huaisha authorities had launched a full-scale investigation into Dongsheng Group’s illegal dealings.

Tan Shiming, Bai Yang, and the others had barely left the Public Security Bureau offices in at least two days. Bai Yang was responsible for calling every day to check on Zhou Jin — and he took every opportunity to loudly complain that the Huaisha police had no humanity whatsoever, feeding him nothing but instant noodles day after day.

He missed Yu Dan hovering over him like a mother hen, and he missed Zhou Jin bringing him good food and drinks every day. All he wanted now was for Zhou Jin to hurry up and recover so the serious crimes unit could go home together — no more living under someone else’s roof!

Zhou Jin smiled at this. Then, almost immediately, she remembered Zhan Wei, and very nearly launched herself out of bed. “We’re still missing someone! Zhan Wei — ah!”

The next instant she sucked in a sharp breath — the moment she moved, she had wrenched the wound on her leg viciously.

Jiang Hansheng was at the absolute limit of his patience. He had half a mind to nail her to the bed. “Zhou Jin,” he said, “can you please be still for just a little while?”

Zhou Jin: “Yes, yes. Alright.”

The plane sat at the terminal, readying for takeoff. Cabin crew members were helping passengers stow their luggage.

Zhan Wei pulled his black cap low over his face, leaving only the lower half visible, and moved with the flow of passengers to find his seat in first class.

He sat down, feeling, despite himself, a creeping unease.

He hadn’t expected Qi Yan to actually lose. The man had held such an enormous advantage. Zhan Wei couldn’t stop himself from silently cursing him as useless — couldn’t even deal with one woman.

Now Zhou Jin was still unconscious. Once she woke, knowing her nature, she would clamp on like a dog and refuse to let go. She didn’t have solid evidence yet of his betrayal of the police force — but the authorities had already begun investigating Dongsheng Group, and it wouldn’t be long before they traced their way back to him.

He had to run.

The entire drive to the airport, Zhan Wei’s heart had been in his throat, gripped by a creeping dread. He found himself thinking that he truly owed his parents an apology — watching them grow old now, he would no longer be there to care for them in their final years. And then there was his wife and child…

As for Zhou Chuan — he felt not a shred of remorse, only hatred. Even now.

Without the two of them — without Zhou Chuan, without Zhou Jin — how could he ever have sunk to this?

Still, at least he was better off than Zhou Chuan. He, at the very least, was still seated in first class, about to embark on a new life.

Thinking this, the anxiety that had gripped him slowly, little by little, began to ease.

He smiled to himself, leaned back in his seat, eyes closed, put on his headphones, and let the music wash over him.

Then someone pulled his headphones off.

Zhan Wei startled. Before he could react, a voice recorder was pressed close to his ear, and a recording played:

“Haven’t you always wanted to know how your brother died? I’ll tell you the truth right now. It was me — I shot him dead with a single bullet.”

The color drained from Zhan Wei’s face in an instant. He looked up — and met the strikingly handsome face of a man.

Jiang Cheng pressed play again, letting it loop once more. This time even the passengers behind could hear it clearly, and they craned their necks over with curiosity.

Jiang Cheng removed Zhan Wei’s cap and placed it on his own head, tugging the brim down until the lower half of his face was shrouded in shadow.

Zhan Wei’s back was already drenched in cold sweat. And yet Jiang Cheng was smiling at him — a smile that showed half of one sharp canine tooth.

He asked, “Are you going to come down yourself — or shall I invite you?”